One Book in the Grave: A Bibliophile Mystery

me a hint of some of the more bizarre features of this gigantic fun house.
     
    “Oh, good.” She rubbed her hands together gleefully. “I would start with the conservatory. I have a nice collection of exotic flora and it’s such a soothing, pretty space. But when you get tired of all that peace and quiet, the game room is not to be missed.”
     
    “That’s what Suzie said.”
     
    “And the music room is pretty special if you’re into musical instruments. We have a three-hundred-year-old harpsichord that still sounds beautiful. And we can supply a complete wind and brass section for anyone who’s in the mood to jam. Or you can just have a seat and watch things happen. I’ve rigged some puppets to play saxophone and guitar. It’s totally awesome.”
     
    I laughed as she morphed into an excited young gamer. “It sounds fascinating, Grace. I can’t wait to do some exploring.”
     
    “It’s an adventure for sure.” She took a breath and seemed to remember she was a grown-up. Then she patted my hand and held it as we strolled to the door. “Now, don’t forget, we’re meeting for cocktails at five o’clock in the gold salon. That’s up the stairs to the left and halfway down the hall. It’s on the north side of the house, overlooking the lake. I can’t wait for all my favorite people to meet and mingle.”
     
    “I’ll be there,” I assured her as we waved good-bye to each other. I stood at the doorway and watched her walk down the wide, wood-paneled hall and turn a corner. She didn’t know me very well, but suffice it to say I wouldn’t miss a cocktail party for the world. I decided I would scout out the gold salon on my tour that afternoon. I didn’t want to be late for cocktails. That would be rude.
     
    Twenty minutes later, my suitcase was emptied and stowed in a corner of the walk-in closet. I had hung up my dressy clothes and folded everything else and putthem in the dresser drawers. All my toiletries were arranged along the counter in my private bathroom and I’d placed the books I’d brought with me on the table next to the love seat under the bay window. As it turned out, bringing a few books along wasn’t quite as necessary as I’d thought it would be when I’d packed them. But how was I to know Grace Crawford owned every book ever written?
    “Are you all settled?”
     
    I glanced up and saw my friend Vinnie standing in the doorway. Suzie stood behind her wearing a happy grin as her gaze swept my odd, book-filled room. “Wow.”
     
    “Yeah, tell me about it.”
     
    “Holy shawarma, Brooklyn,” Vinnie whispered, her voice tight with alarm as her eyes goggled in shock. Abruptly, she whipped around and wagged her finger at Suzie. “This is exactly what I was afraid of. I’m certain there are no other rooms to give you, so Suzie, you must apologize to Brooklyn for your aunt’s crazitude.”
     
    “I’m not sure that’s a word, babe,” Suzie said.
     
    “It should be,” Vinnie said darkly. “It describes her perfectly.”
     
    “I think this is cool,” Suzie said, walking into my room and looking around. “Besides, Brooklyn knows Aunt Grace is a book nut. And she’s been here before.”
     
    “But I never saw this room,” I muttered, then chuckled. “If Derek were here, he’d laugh his ass off. Me, entrapped by books. Obviously, my book-lover karma has come back to bite me on the butt.”
     
    “Wow, two butt references in less than ten seconds.” Suzie studied me. “You must miss him a lot.”
     
    “Derek does have a very attractive bottom,” Vinnie allowed, her tone indicating she took the subject of Derek’s bum seriously. I appreciated that since I did, too.
     
    “I do miss him,” I said. “But I’m happy to be with you guys. And Derek’s very happy that I decided to come out here for the week. He figures there’s a lot less chance of my getting into trouble if I’m with you two.”
     
    “Not that I believe there will be any trouble,” Vinniesaid, rapping her knuckles against the smooth wood top of the dresser. “But I’ll knock wood just in case.”
     
    “Good thinking,” I said, touching the wood frame of the bathroom door. I could use all the good-luck rituals and charms I could get.
     
    It had been only a few months since I’d found myself at the mercy of someone who wanted to kill me. And that hadn’t been the first time it had happened. I’d tried to make light of it, but the jokes were losing steam. The fact was, I